


leave before the lights come on

by benditlikepress



Category: NCIS
Genre: Canon Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e04 Silver War, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23040448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: The night before Ziva is assigned to NCIS, she crosses paths with one member of the team in a bar. Set between Kill Ari Pt 2 and Silver War.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> some events and dialogue from silver war have been borrowed and repurposed

Ziva spotted him as soon as she walked into the bar. Difficult not to, the way she was trained to watch for anything that stood out in any situation. Third booth back from the door, nursing his drink and casting the occasional glance around the room. Looking for trouble, no doubt.

He didn’t seem to notice her, though, and maybe that was the reason why she sat herself directly in his eyeline at the bar, so the next time he looked around the room he’d see her too.

She wondered if he’d recognise her from the back. Then again, he’d spent much of a day following her from behind. If he was as good at his job as his ego would likely lead him to believe, he should be able to easily pick the back of her head out in a crowded room.

The bartender finally acknowledged her presence and held up a finger to indicate he’d be with her shortly. She nodded and glanced around the room for a second time. There was a man sat at the far end of the bar who she registered watching her. He wasn't bad-looking – far from it. She caught his eye for the briefest of moments before casting her mind back to the real target of her current attention.

She felt him stand up in the booth behind her and start to walk in her direction. For a split second she felt trepidation – an unexpected voice in her head asking if this was a bad idea.

She still hadn't heard anything about her request for transfer to NCIS. Seeing as she had originally been booked home on a flight the next evening, she assumed she would be sat on it. She was still feeling a little frustration at that fact – moreso at her circumstances than NCIS directly for not accepting her admittedly bizarre request. She was in no rush to go back to Tel Aviv after what had happened with Ari. But if that wasn’t going to happen? Well, he was here. What was the harm in a little fun to say goodbye?

He tapped her on the shoulder slowly, probably a wise move when approaching an assassin from behind. She tried to feign surprise when she turned to look him in the eye – large and blue and twinkling, a cursory smile on his lips.

"Ziva David."

" _Not_ Gibbs."

"Thought you'd be long gone by now."

"Almost. I had a few noose ends to tie up first."

"Actually it's... no, that's probably what you meant."

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo sat down on the stool next to her, placing his drink down on the bar. Ziva looked at him curiously, but he focused on the liquid. The bartender finally approached her.

“Sorry about the wait, what can I get you?”

“Vodka lemonade and a shot of tequila.”

“Make that two.” Tony added with a tire in his voice. When Ziva looked at him in question, he shrugged.

“Proof of age?”

Ziva sighed, standing up to retrieve her Mossad ID from her back pocket. The bartender looked at it, genuinely interested, before sighing and disappearing below the bar for glasses.

“I forgot about the drinking age in this country.”

“How old are you?”

“22.”

Tony exhaled sharply. “22, god.”

Ziva turned to him accusatorially. He was still studying the golden liquid in his glass, head ducked a little. "Can I help you, Special Agent DiNozzo?"

"Tony. It's depressing to drink alone."

"And so you're.. what, _Tony_? Have you not got anyone you would rather be drinking with?"

Tony looked around the bar for effect. "Bar full of strangers who aren't drunk enough yet for me to forego small talk."

He didn't seem to realise what a sad thing it was to admit that Ziva, a woman he had met in difficult circumstances at work two weeks ago, was his best offer of someone to spend time with.

"I am not drunk."

"No, but you don't seem like a small talk kind of woman. Figured we could either talk, or you'd be fine sitting in silence."

"That is a lot of assumptions to make about me based off very little interaction."

"I think I'm pretty good at reading people."

"I think that too. Or at least I used to."

Ziva immediately regretted her words, unnecessarily candid for a discussion with this essential stranger who knew all too well of Ari's actions. She felt his eyes burning into the side of her head as she looked ahead at the bar.

"So we were right, huh?"

"We are not talking about that."

"What _are_ we talking about?"

Ziva watched his facial expression; the slightly cockiness, the squint in his eyes, the smile playing on his lips. She shrugged purposefully.

"Buy me this drink and we can find out."

"Yeah?"

"It is probably my last night here, I have not had a chance to enjoy myself yet."

On cue, the bartender placed the shots and Ziva’s drink. Tony retrieved his wallet and paid in cash.

“To your last night in the States.”

They clinked shot glasses quickly and downed them as though it were a competition, staring each other in the eye.

“So where to next, Miss David?”

“I am not sure yet. Awaiting orders.”

“Some life you lead.”

“Hmm.”

“What’s it like?”

Ziva turned to look at Tony again then. He was assessing his drink more than her, his eyes a little glassy.

"Are you this much of a lightweight?"

"I'd already had a couple before I saw you walk in."

"I thought you did not like drinking alone?”

"It's been a rough month. You know, I almost died of the plague."

"The plague? Like with the.." Ziva mimicked an animal action, the name of which escaped her. Tony's hand came out and grabbed hers to stop her, and she lowered them back down to the table.

It took a moment for him to cease the contact.

“Are you sure you should be drinking?”

“What doesn’t kill you..” He registered the blank look on Ziva’s face. “I’m fine. All-clear. I just mean I’ve earned this drink.”

"I doubt it would mean anything coming from me, but for what it is worth I am sorry about your colleague. And the plague."

"I'm sorry about Ari."

Evidently, he didn't really mean it, but she appreciated the acknowledgement all the same that he could see some semblance of common ground between her and himself. She raised her glass and clinked it against his.

It was clear from the hint of professionalism to his words that Gibbs hadn't told him her personal connection to Ari beyond anything outside of Mossad. He'd also said nothing that indicated he knew what had really happened, and she was thankful to the other man for that. She'd had no reason, really, to trust he wouldn't at least tell Tony that she'd been the one to pull the trigger as soon as her back was turned. The secret was best for everyone. Not least Ziva if she was expected to be able to look her father in the eye in several hours time.

Tony put his drink back on the table. He ran a hand lazily through his hair and Ziva watched the way his face scrunched, lines in the corner of his eyes.

"Long day?"

"They all are when we're 1 down. You?"

Ziva shrugged, not much wanting to talk about being ferried between her hotel room and the embassy, twiddling her thumbs, trying to forget about basements and Kate Todd and the look on her big brother's face as blood poured from his head.

“Uneventful.”

The other man, the one at the end of the bar, was still giving her cursory glances. Her interest in him was dying by the second. She saw Tony register his existence and look between the two of them.

"You know that guy's been staring ever since you sat down?"

"I know."

"Kinda creepy."

"Coming from you, that is a little rich."

"You don't even know me."

"You stalked me across the city."

"Yeah, for work."

"Really?"

"Yes." He said the word confidently but he elongated it, something else hanging over its ending. Ziva supposed he had sensed what was lingering behind her words since he’d sat down next to her. Even now, when he was clearly thrown, his charm was never too far away. "Besides, you were playing hard to get."

"I see. You are not a man that happens to very often, yes?"

"I don't know about that."

"You're forgetting, I have done my research. False modesty is not a trait I associate with you."

Ziva was very much enjoying this. There was something instinctive about conversation between them – the way they were able to push each other’s buttons without a second thought. She thought back to their first meeting and how she’d gone back to her room that night thinking about the way he’d stared at her when she’d tried to improvise a way to capture his attention. She had cursed herself, then, for not keeping her mind firmly on the job. It wasn’t like her. When they crossed paths again outside the hotel she’d suspected that sentiment had been mutual. 

"So you know a lot about me, huh?"

"Some." More than he realised.

"Funny. I know nothing about you."

"You know what you need to."

"Did you need to know my entire life story?"

"Perhaps it was not all relevant. But.."

"But?"

"It is my job to know more than is necessary."

"What else does that job entail?"

"It is funny, Tony."

"What is?"

"You keep asking me about Mossad."

"It's an interesting job."

She liked the way his voice sounded when he was relaxed; the way you could hear a smile forming. She tried (if nothing else) to rid thoughts of that smile from her brain, tip-toeing around the innocent affection she felt towards it.

"But they are not the questions you really want to be asking."

"I don't know about that. 22, an assassin, working for your father?"

"I never confirmed he was my father."

"Didn't have to."

"I am not here to talk about my father. Your flirtation techniques need some work.”

Tony scoffed. “Who says I’m flirting?”

“What are you doing, then?”

Ziva stared him down with a raised eyebrow. As expected, he looked away first, smirking and finishing the last of his drink. “Give me a second to think that one over. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Tony hopped off his seat energetically and made his way towards the back of the room, throwing a glance Ziva’s way as he went to open the door. He nodded at her nonchalantly when he saw her watching him, and Ziva wondered how much of it was for show.

* * *

In the time it took Ziva to finish the last of her drink, the man from across the bar got up from his seat and walked around the bar towards her. She ignored him, focusing instead on the television above the bar which was playing a soccer match. When he reached her he didn’t sit down, instead standing next to her waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

She waited a little longer than necessary before craning her neck to look up at him. He was taller than she realised.

“Hey. I’m Ryan.”

“Ziva.” She nodded with a tight expression that might lend itself to being called a smile.

"Boyfriend?"

"Excuse me?"

"That guy. He gonna punch me if I offer to buy you a drink?"

The question almost made Ziva laugh - the sheer gall of him to wait until the second Tony got up from his seat to approach her.

"No. But I am OK with the one I already have."

"Fair enough."

He didn't seem too bothered, moving elsewhere in the bar somewhere behind Ziva's head.

Given how much he'd been staring Ziva had been expecting him to try a little harder than that, and she couldn't deny part of her was disappointed she didn't get the opportunity to dismiss him in a more physical way. The past few days had been so uneventful, holed up in the embassy and her hotel room waiting for a phone-call.

When Tony got back he sat down without hesitation. The gap between them was a little smaller now and he slung his arm over the wooden back of her bar stool with a familiarity the situation didn't allow for: his easy confidence still evident even as he had his unfamiliar shackles up. Ziva knew when she reached for her drink her arm would brush against his chest.

"Did that guy hit on you as soon as I was off my stool?"

"Yes."

"Unbelievable." He said under his breath, though he sounded close to impressed. "Y'know, I wouldn't be offended if you had a better offer."

"I am quite alright, thank you."

Ziva could see the wheels turning in Tony's brain as he tried to work out if she was satisfied with her own company, or with his.

"Was thinking I might have to flash my badge, get him to step off."

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Tony. You at least know that about me."

"I know. I just.."

"Overcompensate?"

"Believe me, lady, there is _nothing_ I need to overcompensate for."

Ziva allowed her eyes to lower, raking over his body with an amused expression.

"I think that remains to be seen, Agent DiNozzo."

"Never had any complaints."

"Oh, I'm sure." Tony placed his elbow on the bar and rested his chin lazily on his hand. He was leaning closer now and his gaze dropped briefly to her lips. "Another?"

The question seemed to spin around his head for a moment, snapping him out of what he had been thinking. "If you're buying. Something non-alcoholic."

"Oh?"

"Need my wits about me."

"And why is that?"

"Get the feeling having your guard down around you is a bad idea. Wanna wake up with all my limbs."

"Where's the fun in that?"

The glint in Tony's eyes when he didn't respond was all she needed. She wondered if this was as dangerous a game as he was trying to make her believe.

"What can I get you?"

Their gaze was finally broken by the reappearance of the bartender.

"Can I get a soda? And another shot of tequila."

"The same. Please." Ziva's brain was too preoccupied to think of something more as she felt Tony's eyes burning into the side of her head. She didn't look at him as the bartender got their drinks, waiting for him to give in and look away as she felt a warmth spreading down her body.

The shots were in their hands quickly.

"L'chaim."

"You are full of surprises."

"I like to think so."

Tony shifted a little in his seat. She might have thought it unconscious but she saw the way he looked at her sideways through downcast eyes as he did so, the arm on the back of her seat brushing her shoulder. 

The tops of their thighs were pressed against each other now. Ziva had her feet resting on a bar at the bottom of the stool and resisted the urge to move one against his leg.

"Where are you staying?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Making conversation." Tony's voice is low and near Ziva's ear.

"10 minutes away."

"Huh. My apartment is right around the corner."

"Why do you think I am here?"

Ziva ran the back of her fingers lightly over his arm and he looked down at the skin she had just touched, as though looking for a mark.

"Really?"

"It is a coincidence. I came straight from the embassy."

"Y'know, Gibbs doesn't believe in coincidences."

"Do you?"

“Do you turn every conversation into an interrogation?”

“Only when the man reacts the way you do.”

“How…” Tony stopped himself with a smile and a shake of his head. “Oh, Ziva.”

She liked the way he said her name, almost a whisper over his tongue. “What?”

“Nothin’. Keep talking.”

“Well, now am I not sure what conversation you deem acceptable. Though I should think we have things other than work where we can find a common ground."

"I'm all ears. No, actually. Let me guess. You're definitely into some kind of martial arts."

"What makes you say that?”

“Interrogation?”

“Curiosity.”

The tips of Tony's fingers had by that point made their way to Ziva's thigh. They brushed it a little too long to be accidental.

"You're not the only one who's in the know."

Ziva knew it was at best an educated guess, but let him have it. "Basketball and American football, yes? I have never much been one for team sports."

"I'm shocked." The comment was joking and there was a smile on his face but he pulled his hand away from her leg.

The pushing and pulling was starting to drive her mad. She knew he was far from a coy man.

Ziva’s attention was grabbed by a commotion on the television screen, and she looked up to see a player wheeling away in celebration. Tony tracked her eyes to the screen.

“Soccer isn’t really my thing, though.”

“You find more productive ways to get your exercise.” Innuendo was never far from the tip of her tongue, particularly when she had been drinking, and she sensed that was something she and Tony had in common.

“You wouldn’t want to know.”

“No?”

“It’s a team sport, y’see.”

“Perhaps I need somebody to show me the benefits.”

“Perhaps you do.” Ziva didn't say anything, weighing up her options. "Do you have a coach on standby?"

Ziva laughed and the sound cut through the noise around them. "Do you think I would be here with you if I did?"

"Maybe. You might be like this with everybody."

"Did not have you down as somebody who lacked self-esteem."

"Oh, I have self-esteem. I'm just probing."

"I see."

Ziva tipped her hair over one shoulder, leaning her head to expose her neck, and maybe she was looking for his attention because she remembered how easily she grabbed it taking her hair down at the navy yard.

It had the desired effect. His gaze got stuck on a point between her neck and her bare shoulder. 

"Like what you see?"

"You really are a tease."

"I’m giving you your answer.” She watched him take a long gulp of his drink, watching her out of the corner of his eye but the twinkle still being pushed down by a frown. "What are you so afraid of?"

Ziva can see his instinctive cocky reaction, the way his expression physically reverberates at the insinuation. No: Tony DiNozzo isn't afraid of anything.

She placed a hand on his thigh. He looked down at it studiously, observing her fingers as they curled a little around muscle.

"Who says I'm afraid?"

“Something is holding you back."

"Loyalty?"

"To who?"

"Team. Badge. Country."

"You and I are not enemies, Agent DiNozzo. You would do well to remember that."

"Well, we aren't _friends_."

"I am not trying to be. Nor am I looking to give you an apparently much-needed lecture on the diplomacy between our two agencies."

"Then what are you looking for, Ziva?"

She _could_ stop and ponder what the hell she was doing. Alternatively, she could move her hand an inch up his thigh, which is what she ended up doing instead.

"Ziva.." His voice was quiet, heavy.

"What?"

“You’re going to get me in trouble.”

She withdrew her hand, slowly. “Well, we cannot have that.”

Tony assessed her expression for a moment, and Ziva tried her best to make it unreadable. He looked away first, ducking his head with a chuckle. “What the hell am I doing?”

“You tell me.”

Another look. He lifted his hand from the chair behind her to stroke a curl that had come lose from behind her ear. It was a strangely affectionate touch that seemed to surprise the both of them.

“You wanna get out of here?”


	2. Chapter 2

They left the bar on foot. Ziva hoped Tony wasn't lying when he said how closeby he lived; it was turning into a colder night than she'd anticipated and she hadn't worn a jacket.

Goosebumps formed on her arms as they walked closely, a breath of air between their bodies and their sides brushing as they stepped.

They made it as far as the next block before Tony grabbed her hand urgently. Ziva looked around instinctively for some kind of threat but instead found herself being pulled into the alley and her back slamming against cold brick. Neither of them moved for a moment and Ziva assessed the dark expression in Tony's eyes with a flutter of excitement before she put her hands behind his neck and pulled her lips to his.

His kisses were hungry and desperate and Ziva wondered how long he'd been thinking about doing it: if he'd wanted to pull her under the canopy in the rain at the hotel and shove her up against the wall just like this, his fingers digging into her waist as she tried to take control with her hands on his face. Her tongue didn't last long in his mouth before he separated their lips and began to move his lower.

"Is your apartment as close as you said it is?" Ziva's voice was heavy as she spoke, warmth down her neck from the feeling of Tony's lips against the bare skin.

"Thought you'd know my address."

"I do not know street names around here."

Tony chuckled against her collarbone and the feeling made her shiver.

"Come on. Now." She pushed him forcefully with her hips until he released her from the wall and dragged him by the hand back out onto the street. She felt oddly childlike as they moved quickly along the pavement, unable to keep her eyes off the smile on his face he was trying to hide.

True to his word it only took them five more minutes to get to Tony's apartment building. Too impatient to wait for the elevator they took the stairs up to the third floor with Ziva leading the way as though she knew where she was going (she didn't, even if Tony suspected otherwise).

The apartment wasn't what she expected - clean and sharply furnished with a piano in the centre of the main room. She wondered if he could play.

Tony watched her as she took in the room and when their eyes met there was a little pause of expectation.

"Drink?"

"No, thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgement, still watching her expectantly. The air was tightly wound and ready to explode, the both of them daring each other to be the first to press a foot on the fuse. "Nice place."

It seemed to catch Tony off-guard and he 'umm'ed for a split second. "Yeah. Thanks. I'm never here, so it's always clean."

"I have not been to my apartment back home for months." She stroked a finger along the black top of the piano and her heart was suddenly in her mouth as he approached her, encroaching on her space. She looked up at him with what might have passed for an innocent expression on anyone else. "Are you going to give me the tour?"

* * *

As much as the maturity of Tony's living area and kitchen had surprised her, his bedroom was entirely in the opposite direction. A single bed, in the centre of the back wall.

He didn’t notice Ziva’s preoccupation as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her towards him. His hands were bigger than they looked – confident and possessive, molding their way around her skin with ease. Ziva turned away from the bed to watch the expectant look on his face, now close to her own.

"Are you serious?"

"What?"

"You bring women here?"

Tony looked quizzical for a moment before he followed Ziva's eyeline.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, no, not usually. Pretty much go to their place."

"So you can make a quick exit in the morning?"

"Look, if this is gonna turn into therapy then.." Tony stopped talking when Ziva closed the space between them, kissing him and pushing him so he sat on the edge of the bed. He put his arms out to steady himself, palms down, and she swung her legs over his and perched in his lap. Maybe it was a little too aggressive because he wobbled and his arms bent and straightened as he balanced himself.

She bit her lip and saw something raw flash across his eyes as she began kissing him again and his hands were all over her, climbing up her shirt to run warm fingers over her back and hips and grabbing at the belt loops on the back of her trousers to pull her closer to his crotch.

She liked the feeling of his hair between her fingers - the last man she was with (though it had been a little while) had been bald, and it didn't come close to comparing to the satisfaction as she moved her hands through his now, listening to the little noises in the back of his throat as she moved her hips.

He pulled her shirt over her head with needy fingers and any trepidation he'd had at the bar was well and truly gone now. Ziva's skin tingled as he pulled it over her head, stroking her hair through in a surprisingly gentle way. He tipped it over one shoulder and began kissing her exposed neck in the way she'd imagined him doing when she made a similar move in the bar, craning it to allow him access.

While his mouth was occupied his hands moved towards her bra clasp and undid it with practiced confidence, and when he pulled it away from her he took his head away from her neck so he could look at her now naked before him. The expression on his face was intoxicating: the pure _want_ in his eyes as he stared at her and drew rough circles up and down her back. Ziva didn't hesitate to kiss him again, her tongue making it's way into his mouth and an unexpected moan in her throat.

She could feel him hard beneath her as he moved his mouth to her breasts, taking a nipple between his teeth and gently biting it before circling it with his tongue and turning his attention to the other one. Ziva reciprocated by rolling her hips on his lap with more urgency, feeling every thought that had preoccupied her the past few weeks dissipating with each more desperate tug at his hair as he licked and nipped along her chest.

When he looked back up at her and brought his lips to hers there was a strangely thoughtful expression on his face and his frenetic movements slowed, just for a moment, before it was gone again.

"Wanted to do this since we first met."

"Yeah?"

"Kiss that smug smile right off your lips."

"I am not sure what you mean."

"Sure you don't."

"I think it worked, don't you?"

Ziva's confident words were in contrast to the flutters of excitement in her stomach. If she was being honest it was rare that a man could elicit such a response from her: the genuine nervous energy that came with not being sure what was coming next. She didn't much like not being in control, and as though to quell the butterflies she got up from his lap and stood in front of him brazenly as she undid her trousers and stepped out of them, before her underwear followed. She signalled at him to head up the bed towards the pillows and he did so with enthusiasm, using his elbows to pull himself up as she climbed back on top of him.

He tried to pull her face towards his but she stopped him, sitting back on her heels so she could undo his belt and fly. He watched her with a hungry curiosity as her fingers moved achingly slowly, stopping to stroke the hair above the line of his jeans before undoing them.

She pulled them off his legs and stroked her hands back upwards, drawing inwards from his hips along the V that led towards his groin.

She left his boxers on for now, and he keened upwards into her touch as she moved her hands away from him and moved them back up to his face. She kissed along his jaw and felt the muscle tense as she darted her tongue out to lick a spot in front of his ear.

She'd sunk back down onto his crotch instinctively and was rubbing her heat a little against the hardness she could feel underneath her. Her intentions to keep him waiting were waylaid by her own frustration at the fabric barrier between them and she moved her fingers back down to his boxers and began to remove them, making sure every finger brushed against his throbbing length as she did so. His lips left hers as she worked them down his legs and he was breathing against her, skin prickling under her touch. He kicked them off unceremoniously.

She took him in her hands without hesitation and he hissed, stroking her thighs as she made similar motions up and down his length.

When she wriggled herself further down his body he seemed confused until she replaced her hands with her tongue, slowly drawing a circle around his tip while watching him intently. She continued to watch him as she enveloped her lips around him, sucking and lowering down until she had a couple of inches in her mouth. She could feel him strain to not jerk upwards down her throat and she pulled away entirely, releasing her lips with a slight pop.

She cupped her fingers around him again briefly before moving them to the base and lowering her lips back down, slowly sucking as her hand worked in tandem. She could sense his sensitivity as his body reacted, and the noises he made under his breath made a warmth pool in the pit of her own stomach.

"Fuck, Ziva." She lifted her head to delight in the hooded expression that accompanied the strained words. "I'm not gonna last if you carry on."

She gave the head one long suck before moving away, not keen to find out if he was telling the truth.

Suddenly Tony's arms were behind her back and pulling her forcefully down onto the bed so he could replace her previous position on top: Ziva was starting to feel the power struggle well and truly at play between them but was reticent to object as he spread her legs and began to kiss his way down her stomach.

He began to move slower as he got lower, kissing her ribs and her abs and her hip bones and just as Ziva thought he was about to give her what she craved he went off course and began to work his way up the inside of her thigh. She tried not to groan in frustration but she could feel him smile a little smugly at a subconscious reaction.

"What does this say?" His voice was quiet and Ziva could feel his fingers stroking at the inside top of her thigh where Hebrew script was scrawled.

"If we ever see each other again, I will tell you."

"Really?" He elongated the word with intrigue but didn't give Ziva a chance to respond as he moved the tip of his tongue to her entrance and slowly moved it upwards.

Much like when he'd been working his way down her body he moved glacially and paused just as he reached the edge of her clit before making his way back down again. This time his tongue entered her, just a little, before ducking back out and continuing to draw shapes up and down her folds.

"Hypocrite." Ziva managed to call in a throaty voice, not willing to distract herself any more from the movements of his tongue to explain she meant him calling her a tease.

It worked, either way, and the sudden pressing of his tongue against her clit made her gasp. He pressed his lips over it as his tongue circled it, still far too slowly, and as she began to moan he lifted his arms to run hands over her thighs and stomach with his fingers splayed and unfocused. She bit her lip, hard, blood and adrenaline pumping through every inch of her body.

She couldn’t see her face with it buried between her legs but she closed her eyes and remembered the way he had looked at her in the bar: the fascination and trepidation as he’d sensed danger.

She grabbed his right hand forcefully with her own as it pulled at her waist and pushed it downwards. He looked up at her, seeking the desperation in her face as he obeyed her silent demand and drew over her lips with his fingers before allowing one to enter as his tongue continued to flick and press at her clit.

Her moans increased as he quickly added a second finger and began to curl them in rhythm but she felt achingly empty as heat spread down her body. She ran her hands through his hair buried between her legs and rocked against his hand. The motion pushed his tongue harder against her, her desperation increasing as the tension built. While she still could, she grabbed him behind the neck and pulled his head back up towards her.

His fingers continued to work from the awkward angle as she tasted herself on his lips and felt him hard against her stomach, his cheeks pink and skin warm.

"Lie down. I want you inside me." She bit his earlobe, hard, and Ziva noted with delight that he seemed to enjoy the pain, jittering slightly before moving away from her so they could switch positions. 

Ziva liked it on top. 

She found herself sat on him again, legs spread wide around his, and he kneaded at her thighs as the tip of his cock aligned against her entrance. 

Grateful for the opportunity to set the tone she lowered herself onto him quicker than he was expecting, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. She lifted herself back off him, almost to the tip, before sinking back down and without skipping a beat he was desperate fingers and laboured breathing and moving quicker and quicker as she ride him.

He had that same hungry look on his face again and Ziva wasn’t expecting the way it made her breath catch in her throat. She wanted to close her eyes, to avoid his gaze, but she found herself incapable of looking away. Feeling this pull between them; knowing she had inspired it.

Knowing they’d probably never see each other again was both a curse and a blessing.

It was rough and coarse and intense and Ziva could barely pause to catch her breath, hands grabbing at bedsheets and the noises she was making definitely weren't going unnoticed if the look on his face was anything to go by. 

"You feel incredible. Holy shit."

He sounded more coherent than she felt. He said something else, a comment about her mouth, but the irony wasn't lost that she was too focused on her own moans as he continued to hit the perfect spot inside her.

Neither of them lasted long. Tony came first, just, his upper body lifted so his breath was hot in Ziva's ear as he jerked upwards into her. She scratched her nails down his back as she released, tipping her head back as he tongued at her neck. She hoped they left a mark.

* * *

It was cramped and uncomfortable afterwards as Ziva tried to find some purchase to roll over, too tired to make her way back to her hotel. Tony shuffled backwards to give her more room but she relented and threw herself on top of him, figuring that because it was his fault he should be the one to suffer.

"Get a double bed." Ziva murmured into his neck and felt his chest move as he chuckled.


	3. Chapter 3

Ziva was woken up by an incessant ringing just after 4am. Woken up may have been an exaggeration; it couldn’t have been more than an hour since they’d got to sleep. It was almost time for her alarm to go off, but even so a call from Mossad at this time was never good news. She pressed a hand over the speaker as she snuck out of the bedroom, and her fears were only heightened when the harassed voice of Officer Bashan informed her she was required at the embassy immediately.

She got dressed quickly, pretending her glances at Tony sleeping in bed were simply coincidental. When she was ready she hesitated in a way she wasn’t expecting, bent down towards him, stopped, and then stood up again just as quickly, grabbing her coat and letting herself quietly out of the apartment.

Ziva got a cab straight to the navy yard from the embassy. Someone was shipping her belongings over for her - though she didn't have many, and had yet to properly unpack from her last overseas mission.

Of course, Mossad could have done her the courtesy of informing her that her request to join NCIS had unexpectedly been accepted a few hours earlier. Like, for instance, right before she had sex with her new partner.

How Tony would handle her reappearance at the office was the main focus of her mind as she rode in the elevator up to the correct floor. She was a little relieved to find the bullpen empty, feeling as though it gave her the upper hand.

She wasn't one for regrets, and truthfully she had enjoyed herself a lot last night. Whether he would see it the same way when reality hit him remained to be seen: she hadn't been blind to his suspicions of her.

It took over an hour for anyone else to arrive, and Ziva felt her heart jump a little with adrenaline as Tony yawned and clattered his way across the floor towards his desk.

He didn't notice her, too busy focused on shaving and shrugging off his outerwear. Ziva watched him with curiosity, sensing the stale alcohol and tiredness still emanating from his pores. His hair was spiked and wild, evidence of his lack of undisturbed sleep. She remembered running her hands through it a lot last night, grabbing fistfuls as he thrust into her.

He was talking to himself with his back turned, something about burritos, and she leant back watching him. He'd made it as far as putting on a vest, and she swore she could see faint red marks at the top of his back sticking out from underneath it. The thought made her smile.

He began to brush his teeth using a bottle of water and a mug, and she was equal parts disgusted and intrigued. Wondered whether, if she got close enough, she'd still be able to taste herself on his lips.

"Ugh. Shouldn'tve come into work today. Gibbs sees me like this.."

"He'd _probably_ be as horrified as I am, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony turned at the sound of her voice, and Ziva leaned forward on her chair to survey him more carefully. She smirked at the expression on his face, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. "Working undercover as a hobo?"

"What happened to your flight?"

"Change of plans."

When Ziva didn't make any move to clarify, Tony frowned, signalling her with his toothbrush.

"Mind telling me what you're doing here again?"

"Um.. waiting."

"For what?"

"To start work." Her tone was sarcastic, though she knew he didn't know last night and it was doubtful he'd had a call already this morning. It was fun, watching the wheels turn in his head.

"This more of that famous diplomacy, huh?"

"Not especially."

Tony stood up from his desk, approaching Ziva with a frown and a dark look in his eyes.

"OK, lemme rephrase the original question. What the hell are you doing here, Ziva?"

She stood up too, matching his stance.

"I see. Gibbs didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Mossad have assigned me to NCIS as a liaison officer. We're going to be working together."

Ziva had never wanted to own a digital camera more than she did in that moment, watching the instinctive horror on Tony's face before he masked it over with a neutral expression.

"Does Gibbs know about this?"

"You think I'd be here if he didn't?"

"Well.." Tony smirked briefly, engaging eye contact again. Before he could say anything more personal Ziva caught sight of the way his hair moved, laughing and reaching out for it.

"You might want to do something about your hair. It's sticking up like a.. porcuswine. No, wrong word. Like a por.. porcupig. The little animal with the little spikies, yes?"

"Porcupine."

"Porcupine! Yes! Thank you, Special Agent McGee."

Tony turned quickly to acknowledge the other agent’s sudden presence. Ziva couldn't tell if he was pleased or alarmed at the buffer suddenly between them, and she took what she knew to be his coffee out of the container in McGee's hand. "Todah."

"Sure.." McGee said uncertainly, turning away from Ziva to converse privately with Tony.

She looked down at the desk in front of her and tried a drawer. Locked.

“Anyone have a key for this?”

“That’s Kate’s desk.”

Of all of the people she’d associated with at NCIS, it was perhaps McGee she had had the least to do with on her previous visits. The hostility in his voice was maybe not totally unexpected given the circumstances.

“OK, but if I’m going to be a part of your team, I would love to..”

“Woahwoahwoah – you’re a part of our team?”

“.. Yes.”

“Gibbs tell you about this?” McGee addressed the incredulous question at Tony who was buttoning his shirt and doing his best to look anywhere but in Ziva’s direction.

“Nope.”

“Here are my orders, signed by Director Shepard.” Ziva passed them to McGee purposefully but Tony snatched the paperwork from his hand, stealing a glance at Ziva as he looked them over.

“You think Gibbs knows?”

The question wasn’t directed at her, but she hated the way the two of them were talking around her. “I hope so. All of my personal possessions are currently being shipped from Tel Aviv to Washington.”

If they could be called that. It had been a long time since she’d stepped foot in her apartment, she doubted she’d even recognise the clothes and personal effects that were kept there.

“I’d hold off on unpacking the waffle iron until you talk to him, Ziva.”

“When’s he come in?”

“Now.”

Something reflected in Gibbs’ eyes as he approached her and Ziva blinked quickly, dismissing images of Ari’s glassy expression.

“Special Agent Gibbs.”

“Ziva. What are you doing here?”

“Looking forward to being a member of your team.”

Something flashed across Gibbs’ face before it adopted a blank expression. He didn’t say anything, and Ziva hated the tiny sting of rejection she felt as she watched him walk away and march up the stairs presumably to confront Jenny.

“I stand corrected. It appears he didn’t know. I feel like a donkey’s butt.”

“A donkey’s butt?”

“I think she means horse’s ass.”

She settled back down at the desk opposite Tony as he and McGee began typing on their computers as though nothing had happened. After a few minutes of watching the stairs her eyes began to wander, and as if in tandem she sensed Tony’s attention start to wane. As Ziva began to look at the desk space around her, she felt his eyes being drawn further and further in her direction. He caught her eye at one point and he raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly. Ziva looked away.

The energy was loaded now; Tony alternating between stealing glances at Ziva and looking at McGee to see if he had noticed something was hanging in the air between them. Ziva, for her part, remained uninterested by Tony’s attempts to engage her in silent conversation, tapping her fingers on the desk with her eyes downcast.

“You want something to read?”

The question was sudden and grabbed Ziva’s attention. “What do you have?”

Tony opened his desk drawer with aplomb and pulled out a magazine with a smile on his face. It was a challenge, she was certain, though she couldn’t get a fix on what it was he was trying to get out of her. “GSM. It’s a men’s magazine. Most women find it objectifies them.”

Ziva went into her own newly filled desk drawer, pulling out the same copy.

“I brought it for the plane. I particularly like the article on Page 57. In my experience, it works every time."

"I thought that was just urban legend.."

Ziva watched with amusement as Tony tipped the magazine on its side to get a better view. As he did so, McGee rose again from his chair with a sigh. He approached Ziva with a nervous yet purposeful expression.

"Welcome to the team."

His sentiment was a little awkward and he nodded as though to convince himself but Ziva appreciated it. Considering their lack of interaction before, of everyone at the agency she supposed it was him she had the best chance of a blank slate with.

"Thank you, McGee."

He gave her a small tight smile and another nod as he left the bullpen.

* * *

Ziva expected Tony to start a conversation about what was clearly weighing on his mind once McGee was out of sight, but he stayed quiet. She allowed her eyes to wander around the floor, watching the other people scattered around working. She could feel Tony’s eyes still burning into her but wasn’t about to lose the tiny control she had of the situation by being the first to break the silence.

“Ziva?”

His use of her name, and the tentative voice he used, surprised her. She supposed his gambit with the magazine had been for show: an attempt to divert McGee’s attention from what was bubbling away beneath the surface.

“What?”

"When did you find out about this?"

"0400."

"They just dropped this on you?"

"Nature of the job. Although I had requested the move, things had been quiet for so long I had no reason to believe it was going to happen."

"You requ- whatever. This is.."

"Something wrong?"

"No, no. Just regretting every decision I've ever made."

"A usual Monday morning for you, yes?"

"Ziva." There it was again.

"What?" She challenged him, popping the ‘t’ with her tongue. He dropped the papers and looked at her, her raised eyebrows and smile.

"Was that to screw with me? Last night?"

His voice was straight but tinged with vulnerability that he wasn't good at masking. Ziva shook her head earnestly.

"No. I truly had no idea until today when I got woken up by the call. I thought of it as more of a.."

"A what?"

"A goodbye." Ziva realised that sounded ludicrous - they didn't even _know_ each other, but it was the closest word she could find to what she had been feeling. Not necessarily a goodbye to him individually, but goodbye to the short but complicated American chapter in her life. Or so she'd thought.

"OK..” The word was slow and thoughtful, the wheels still turning in his head. He shook it off. “What we did last night, I mean.."

Ziva sighed and rolled her eyes at the forced sincerity. "Tony."

"What?" His tone was sharp and harassed as he looked up at her again.

"We can never mention it again, if that is what you want."

"If that's what _I_ want? So what - you want to hold this over me?"

"That's not what I meant."

She regretted the words as they came out of her mouth and his expression faltered, suspicion immediately dying and being replaced with something more heavy. She'd spent much of the ride here from the embassy trying to convince herself that last night was just normal sex with a stranger that was ending in an unfavourable way but had gone no way to believing it. No - it had always been something more, from the second she had spotted him across the bar. That pull between them that had been there when they first met, and her curiosity to see how far it went. If she’d wanted something that meant nothing, she’d have ditched him for Ryan.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she continued. “But if this is going to be a problem for you, then perhaps you should talk to Gibbs."

"Oh no, Gibbs _cannot_ know about this."

"Know about what?"

Tony jumped at the sound of Gibbs' voice, rushing to put his magazine back in his desk. Ziva echoed the movement.

"Just.. what Ziva and I count as acceptable reading material in the workplace, Boss."

"You've done worse. Hey, you." Gibbs called for Ziva's attention with a point of his finger. "Pack your trash."

With those words, the trepidation and hint of fear that Ziva had been denying herself to acknowledge about her return to Tel Aviv after Ari flooded her head.

"Not a problem." She tried to speak levelly as she packed her things. Her eyes sought out Tony's but his expression was difficult to read. "Most of it does not arrive until next week. Nice seeing you again, Tony." Her attention was dragged back to him as she walked to the elevator and though the look on his face should've been a goodbye, it felt very much like something else.

She pressed the button quickly and turned her face away from the bullpen while the doors remained open. She wasn't expecting it, then, when she felt someone jump in beside her and turned back to find Gibbs squeezed in as the doors closed.

"Told you to pack your trash, Ziva. I don't remember giving you permission to leave yet."

She looked at him, confused, as he peered at her intently. He moved away from her to flick the elevator power dead and she tried to fight off memories of the last time they were alone.

"You requested this assignment?"

"I did."

"Why?" His voice was a little accusatory, and Ziva supposed he couldn't be blamed for that.

"I had to get away from Mossad for a while."

"You believe what Ari said about your father?"

"No." The denial was trained, drilled into her for as long as she could remember. "Yes. Maybe."

"Your brother was a Svengali, Ziva."

She smiled sarcastically. "Like father, like son."

"Does Mossad know you killed A-"

"No." The interruption was as much for herself as it was anything else. "They believe your report. Only you and I know the truth. For that, I thank you."

"I trust you, you know that." It was interesting - the contrast between him and the rest of his team. How this secret tied them together now, made him believe he understood her motives in a way Tony had spent much of the previous night pausing over. "But when we leave this elevator.."

"You start kicking my butt."

"I don't kick butt." He accentuated the point with a light slap to the back of Ziva's head that made her smirk in surprise, the mood lifted.

The elevator doors opened and she returned to a neutral expression as the two of them got back to the team. McGee had re-entered the bullpen in Ziva and Gibbs' absence, and was talking on the phone as they walked back over. Tony was stood behind his desk, making no attempt to mask the fact he was staring at their arrival.

"Miss David will be with us for a while." Gibbs announced, forcing Tony's best poker face as Ziva made her way back behind the desk opposite him. Before she could get herself fully inside she felt a hand grab her rucksack.

"That's Kate's desk. Yours is down at the end."

Ziva sighed but didn't object. She didn't blame him much; Ari's shadow looming heavily over them. As Tony took his opportunity to exit Ziva stalked after him, forcing him to turn towards her.

"Well, he's a tough one to read."

"You'll find most NCIS agents are like that. It's our training."

Ziva challenged Tony, staring him down with a quirk in her eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

"We never let other people know.. what we're thinking." His voice faded as he spoke, any bravado replaced by something more intrigued.

"Hmm.. right now you're thinking of doing Page 57 with me."

She could see him try to laugh it off but something made the smile drop from his face - maybe it was the look in her own eyes as she felt herself sway a little towards him.

She didn't look away as he paused in the moment. His eyes dropped briefly to her lips and she wondered what he was going to do next when he ducked his head. He cast a glance across to the team's cluster of desks, instinctively, and rubbed his neck as he looked back up at her. There was something else in his eyes now.

“Why don’t you come over after work and show me exactly what you mean?”

He didn't lean in any further when he said the words, though his voice was quiet, and to onlookers Ziva was certain it would look like a casual if not slightly close conversation. She was glad that she had always been good at not reacting physically to things she heard.

“I thought you were having regrets? I am finding it hard to keep up.”

“Here, I thought you knew everything about me.”

The ego was back in his voice, taking the opportunity to grapple for the high ground. Ziva raised her eyebrows and went to move away from him with a smile.

“See you tonight.”

Ziva crossed paths with McGee on the way back to her desk who was approaching Gibbs with a confused expression.

"Uh, Boss? We have a situation at the Smithsonian Museum."


End file.
